Taj Mahal Resurrected

All Things That Matter Press with its spirit of spirituality, mind of intellect, heart of generosity and soul of serendipity are to host Taj Mahal in print and in cyberspace globally./Taj Mahal depicts the historical, biographical account of Shah Jahan’s life as the fifth Moghul emperor of India. / He is the architect of Taj Mahal, creating this monument of love in the likeness of Throne of God. Or—as believed by many, the replica of the Garden of Irem, the mythical garden of Muslim Paradise. / Shah Jahan’s love for his empress, Mumtaz Mahal, unfolds in this book at the inception of his coronation. / Three years after this joyful occasion, Mumtaz Mahal as his beloved Taj dies after giving birth to her fourteenth child, Princess Gauhara./ One week after this tragedy, Shah Jahan emerges from his chamber of grief and seclusion as a statue of ice, his hair all turned gray and his eyes lit by the fires of loss and agony./Against the burden of torments supreme within his heart and soul, the emperor begins chiseling his grief in the shape of flower wounds on the pure marble of Taj Mahal with the hope of being near his beloved unforgotten and unforgettable. /For the next twenty years of his reign are devoted to breathing life to the loss of his love in this wonder of sublime beauty dear to his heart as his beloved Taj. / The emperor is also the patron of the Sufis and the saints since his most beloved of sons and daughters, Prince Dara Shikoh and Princess Jahanara indulge in literary and spiritual pursuits of love, unity and harmony. / Shah Jahan’s other children with frivolous tastes are almost obscured against the zeal and ambition of Prince Aurangzeb who consumes all with the steel of his hatred and wickedness. / The last seven years of the emperor’s life are more tragic than the tragedy of his loss irretrievable—his beloved Taj. / Aurangzeb dethrones Shah Jahan, murders all his brothers, including the saints and Sufis most endeared by Prince Dara Shikoh—the Crown Prince. / Shah Jahan is imprisoned inside his own palace of Red Fort at Agra, all his jewels including the famous Peacock Throne—also designed by Shah Jahan, usurped by Prince Aurangzeb. / From the Shah Burj balcony of his palace, the emperor breathes his last, while gazing at Taj Mahal, Princess Jahanara his loving and faithful companion. / Excerpt One/ Shah Jahan's heart was gathering tears of blood, which could flower into fresh wounds in the likeness of jewel-flowers on his beloved Taj. / No need for fresh wounds, they were already there, bleeding now, willing their sorrow never to die, and longing for the purity of love from his lost beloved. / White peace was torn out of his soul, and given to the world with the edict of love, unity, sanctity. / He was kneeling at the altar of his beloved white and silent. / Not even knowing that his hands were clutching the shroud strewn with pearls, his lips lowering a banner of truce inside the bouquet of kisses./ "Death itself not deadly be/ As to soulless life compare/ Sightless my eyes shudder to see/ If marble tombs to blind seem fair."/ Excerpt Two/ Aurangzeb, protected by his royal guards and attended by his grandees, looked pale and distraught./ He wanted to make sure that the evil tongue of Sarmad was silenced forever, his words dead along with his body not ever to haunt him, before he could return to the comforts of his palace./ The sky had turned pewter, as Sarmad was hauled to the white platform, the guards behind him standing ramrod like the mighty pillars of stone and granite. /All laments of grief and despair from the lips of the well-wishers were silenced, replaced with awe and bewilderment. / Aurangzeb had chosen his own guillotine of vengeance under the shade of domes, the large amethyst in his turban with the glint of a jeweled sword, brandishing its own pride and hatred. / If no one had seen Judgment Day before, this was it! / The river of silence so insufferably profound that even a whisper in the wind could be heard on the other side of the continents far and wide./ An abrupt clap of thunder was gathering clouds, all young and tearful. / Thunder and lightning were making the guards shudder inwardly, floating toward the platform in daze and silence. /The naked sword was still poised before Abhu Chand, and his eyes were shooting bolts of lightning. / Sarmad’s lips and heart, both were bruised and bleeding. / But before he could lay them at the feet of his beloved God, his thoughts were uttering one last cry of joy and pain. "I recognize Thee my Friend/ Thou hast come/ In the form of a naked sword/ To embrace me."/ Sarmad lowered his head on the block most humbly and fearlessly. / His whole body was quivering with joy and anticipation of the unknown. /Since the blow didn't descend, another couplet escaped his ecstatic lips./ "Love's path was blocked by this naked body a bit/ But now the sword has cut my head from it."/ This was Sarmad's command to awaken Abhu Chand out of his own swoon and ecstasy./ Abhu Chand was quick to heed the command of his Lover, striking one violent blow, swift and unerring./ Sarmad's head was bounced off the block, falling at the feet of Abhu Chand./ The Moghul Empire crumbled after the tyranny of Aurangzeb when he became the sixth Moghul Emperor of India, The Moghul Saint of Insanity./This is one more history lesson to add to Putin’s fascism with grand ambition of subjugation./ Slaughtering Ukrainians as Aurangzeb slaughtered Hindus and Sikhs and his end was more tragic than the shattering of the entire Moghul Empire./ Wishing peace between Ukraine and Russia./ Wishing peace in Syria, Yemen, Afghanistan./ World has plenty of food and may famines in Yemen and Afghanistan be quelled./ May Taliban relinquish their guns of bigotry, brutality, hypocrisy, grant women their Islamic rights of education, freedom, and all brave, loving Afghanis the freedom to enjoy their talents of sports, drama, music, literature./ With profound prayers for health, harmony, wisdom for entire world./ “Tell whoso hath sorrow/Grief shall never last/Even as joy has no morrow/So woe shall go past”/ Arabian Nights